757th Teretian Mechanized- Muilen
by Forohe Toxophilus
Summary: This is rated "M" for a reason. If you're under 17 (Because I'm oldshool) then you shouldn't be reading this story. Read the A/N. "The 757th Teretian Mechanized is in a unique situation-with the combination of five different regiments because of a catastrophic accident on their homeworld, how will the men and women of the 757th cope with their first deployment?"
1. LCPL Carson

**A/N**- Any terminology that you may not be familiar with will likely be explained below, in the ***** section. Just in case anyone was confused.

Some things that are obvious, like dates, will also be explained in the ***** section below, just in case anyone is new to WH40K fluff.

Also, this is War-Fic. So expect gratuitous violence, gore, expletives, sexual content, sexist and racist slurs, and all happenstance of nasty. Sorry in advance. Also in advance, I don't believe the things I write, so if I'm writing something racist or sexist, I don't actually believe those things, and I don't want to be associated with those people.

And another thing. Simply because of the response of ya'll and the general encouragement, and my inability to ignore the fact that this was pushed to the second page by day two of it's posting, I'm gonna throw up another chapter. For shits and giggles.

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LCPL. Jackson Carson, 757th Teretian Mechanized Division, aboard *** **U.S.F. Hood

Mobile Infantry Division, * Plt. 2, Squad 2, *** **FT 1

* 178.M42, day 21 of *warp travel to Muilen

[Entry Begins]

_I still don't understand why they decided to smash us all together. Now I've got a legitimate *corpsman in my fire team. And it's a 'she'. We've never worked with women in a squad level before. Sure, they were always back in the medical tents, and doing quartermaster business, but with the merger, they've been assigned to squads._

_Everybody is mixed up. Amparan isn't very happy about all the different parts of our division. He's an infantryman to the core, and all this armour that's now part of us bothers him. He never had a problem with them when they were part of assault practice, or when we were providing close quarters support drills, but now we have to go back home with them._

_Not to mention the airbourne gals. Now, I understand that there are many mixed regiments, but the part that survived was all warrant and commissioned officers, and they're all girls. No enlisted among them. They outrank the hell out of us infantry lads, and now, some of them have been transferred down to the infantry platoons to be our C.O.'s, since most of ours were taken out on the shelf._

_This is going to be hell in a handbasket when we have to land on Muilen..._

'Carson!' Staff Sergeant Amparan shouted from across the loading bay. 'Carson, get your nose out of that diary and get your team on shuttle six! We're in orbit around Muilen, the landing's starting son!' Amparan slapped Carson's shoulder-piece and smiled. 'Get the rest of the platoon out here too. I want to see you all before we land,' he added, with the most serious look he could muster, considering his glee.

Carson gave a slight smile to his NCO and nodded. He slotted his pen into the data-journal's side, folding it neatly back into it's pocket between his *carapace and his fatigues, and slung his *las-carbine over his shoulder, beginning his jog down the hall to platoon two's barracks.

He entered the barracks, where everyone was mostly resting on their bunks. They'd had all of their gear ready to go for the past four days, and it was simply the waiting game then. Until now.

"Okay guys, we're in orbit. Get your shit together, and get out to dock four. Staff Sergeant Amparan want's to see us all before we leave, so let's get out there double time! Let's go!" Carson shouted down the barracks.

He walked over to his fireteam, which was gearing up in record time. He knew them all by name, and was comfortable with them all except one- Corpsman Leas, the girl that was added to his team. She, and the other corpsman in the unit, technically had the power to outrank the Staff Sergeant, when it came to medical matters. But right then, she was under his control.

"Leas, let's get a move on. We don't have all day," Carson said, picking up his c-bag and checking one of his squadmates' pack straps. "You're all good Markus," he said, patting his support gunner on the shoulder, after finishing his look over.

Leas rolled her eyes and snapped her last latch on her carapace together. "Aye Lance Corporal. I'll be along momentarily," she added, pulling on her greatcoat over the armour and sliding her own c-bag onto her back. She pulled her las-carbine from it's place on her bunk post and slung it over her shoulder. "You want to check me over Lance Corporal?"

It was Carson's turn to roll his eyes. "I'm Carson to you guys, not 'Lance Corporal'. And yes, I will, in a second." He turned to look at Markus, who was checking over his equipment, making sure everything was in place.

"You're good Jack. I'll see you in the loading dock?" Markus asked, clipping his hellgun into place on the front of his carapace.

Carson scoffed. "Bet your ass. Get the rest of the team going, I'll catch up with Leas."

Markus gave a wild, excited grin, and waved the rest of the team to follow him. The other six followed the support gunner out of the barracks, as Carson quickly began checking the corpsman's equipment.

"Why does your platoon hate all of us?" Leas asked as Carson checked the straps on her c-bag.

"What do you mean?" he replied, moving around to check her carapace.

Leas glared at him. "I mean that your platoon doesn't appreciate what we're trying to do, and trying to acclimate to. We're not supposed to be frontliners. We're supposed to help defend bases and keep you guys on your feet."

"And we deeply appreciate that." He looked up at her and smiled. She did not .Not knowing how to continue, he rubbed the back of his neck and thought quickly.

"Okay, here's the short version. You're an extra burden on my team. You're inexperienced, you haven't been with us since training, you haven't gotten to know the team, and you're a woman. We normally work together well because we're men, and we know each other. You being here puts us all on edge. Prove to us that we don't have to worry about you all, and we'll like you more. Simple as that." He smacked her shoulder-plate and smiled again. "Let's get a move on Leas."

She nodded. "Aye Lance Corporal." Apparently she wasn't willing to drop her habit of calling him by rank. Not that it was a problem, but he wasn't entirely sure why she wouldn't drop it. Everyone else under Staff Sergeant Amparan were practically on a first name basis with the rest of the platoon. All except the new Corpsmen, each of which insisted on keeping everything very formal. Maybe it was to prevent the men from being too 'friendly'?

They jogged out to the loading dock, where the rest of the platoon was gathering around Amparan in a semi circle. Everyone seemed a little on edge. Carson raised an eyebrow and moved through to the rest of his team.

"What's going on Markus?" he said quietly, spotting a female lieutenant standing a couple of steps away from Amparan.

"Apparently," Markus began, sighing dramatically, emphasizing his distaste. "She's got an announcement to make. What could she say? She's a *flygirl, not an *ice humper like the rest of us."

Amparan clapped and raised his hands. "All right boys... and girls; we've got Lieutenant Jeremy here to say some things." He turned and saluted the lieutenant. "They're all yours ma'am."

"Thank you Sergeant," the small woman said, stepping forwards to her place next to the far more imposing man, *returning his salute, her rank insignia on her greatcoat's cuffs glinting in the hangar bays lights.

"Staff Sergeant ma'am," Amparan quietly corrected her, just loud enough to be heard over the engines of the landing craft spinning up.

"Apologies Staff Sergeant," the Lieutenant replied quickly, managing to hide a blush.

The short, ponytailed brunette stepped right into attention and clasped her hands behind her back. "I've been assigned to your platoon by Lieutenant Colonel Balagus, commander of the 757th's infantry divisions. I've not been trained for such an appointment, but we have a overflow of what you men call flygirls, or so I'm told, and a lack of planes to put them in."

A few of the men gave a quiet, but audible, groan, others sighed and found a comfortable spot to lean on the crates around them. Carson and Markus quickly shared a concerned glance before paying attention to the Lieutenant again.

The reaction was not unnoticed. "I apologize in advance for the mistakes I'll be making in the time to come. For right now, I'll be learning everything I can from Sergeant- I mean, Staff Sergeant Amparan." She looked over to the Staff Sergeant, who gave her a nod before continuing. "I'll be working closely with all of you over the next few months, and I can only hope to gain your respect in that time."

A couple of the men grunted and began to move towards their landing craft. The Staff Sergeant shot them a harsh look, and they stopped in their tracks. "Wait to be dismissed Corporal," Amparan warned their leader, Corporal Herris.

Herris sighed, and stood at attention. "Aye Staff Sergeant."

Lieutenant Jeremy turned to the Corporal. "You are dismissed."

Herris gave a quick salute, barely waiting for the return before leading his squad off to their landing craft. Carson shook his head and smacked the back of Markus's helmet. "All right, let's get going second squad. Check your gear again, and get a move on!"

He picked up his carbine from the crate it rested on and turned around, only to find Lieutenant Jeremy in front of him.

"Uh, hello ma'am." He saluted and stood at attention, dropping the stock of his carbine to the floor with a loud clack.

"Lance Corporal, I will be accompanying your squad to the surface," she stated, pulling her cap on, and a las-rifle slung over her shoulder.

Carson stood there, unsure of what to say. He slung his carbine over his shoulder again and raised an eyebrow. "Uh, with all due respect ma'am, you should perhaps join third or fourth squad, they're in the second wave. We're the frontliners ma'am."

"I'm going with you Lance Corporal Carson. You'll just have total control of the squad- I need to see you all in action."

He considered for a moment, before sighing and walking past her, the rest of his squad following. "First, Corporal Herris is in charge of these two squads. I just delegate responsibility to my squad because I'm the highest ranked one there. Second, keep to the rear of formation, and keep your head down ma'am. This isn't going to be pretty, from what I hear."

She strode out next to him, her pace almost double his just to keep up. "Apologies Lance Corporal. You know what we're up against down there, correct?"

"Orks ma'am," Carson informed her, bluntly. "As near as I can tell, they're big, green, and have a tendency to charge into close combat." He stopped at the ramp into the lander and turned to face her. "I've been told to aim for the head. I suggest you do the same."

"Thank you for the advice Lance Corporal Carson."

Carson ushered the rest of his squad aboard. "Anytime Lieutenant. Get to the front of the 'lat, and keep your head down on the surface."

" 'Lat', Lance Corporal?" she asked, an eyebrow raised.

Carson's own eyebrow cocked before thinking about what he'd said. "Oh, right ma'am. Sorry, we're not used to having pilots be groundside. 'Lat' is our slang for the Valkyrie Landing Craft. Don't ask me why, I don't know."

The Lieutenant nodded and smiled at him. "Thank you Lance Corporal."

"Aye ma'am," he replied, before following her onto the 'lat, sitting down near the rear of the craft and strapping himself into his seat. Much to his chagrin, the Lieutenant, instead of following his advice and going to the front of the 'lat, instead planted herself right next to him.

The ramp was quickly retracted and closed once both squads were aboard, the engines spinning up to a deafening scream before the feeling of weightlessness set in.

"Guardsmen, this is Lieutenant Nicas, your pilot speaking," a sarcastic female voice chimed in through the *vox. "I will be your transportation down to the planet, and then, hopefully, be out of your hair. If anything goes wrong, I would like you to know that there are no emergency exits, and if we lose power mid flight, the best thing to do is to hang onto something, because I'm betting I won't be able to open the cargo-bay doors. Even if I could, you probably don't have parachutes. Have an eventful day."

Carson couldn't help but chuckle. It sounded like she was just about as happy to fly into the thick of things as he was to walk into it. At least she had 'lat armour between her and the incoming fire. But the sarcastic honesty put him to ease more then it should have. Probably because it was honest.

It wasn't everyday he ran into an honest officer.

* * *

*Section

U.S.F.- Ultima Sector Fleet. A division of the Imperial Navy, dedicated to the Ultima Sector of the galaxy.

Plt.- Shorthand for Platoon. In the 757th's case, five squads and a unit of troop transports, such as Chimera's, compose a Platoon. Overall, it's composed of about 150 infantry, a couple of officers, and about 10 Chimera's, or equivalent of Chimera.

FT- Shorthand for Fireteam, a subdivision of a squad.

178.M42- Shorthand for 42,178, the year the story takes place in the 40K universe.

The Warp- Basically, it's an FTL method that has the serious potential to possess you, make you go insane, outright kill you, bring daemons into our plane of existence, and is the source of all space magic in the WH40K universe. In more detail, I direct you to the WH40K Lexicanum. Google it.

Corpsman- Navy term for Medic. I adopted this term for the 757th because I see them more as Marines, and less like a regular army, as they have armour, infantry and air power all in one regiment. Their direct equivalent in real life terms would be the USMC, as that is the branch of service I have experience in.

_757th Armour and __Uniforms-_ The 757th come from an ice planet. Therefore, greatcoats are standard issue. They're nice greatcoats. Be jealous. Also, Carapace armour is the basic infantryman's armour, and comes in varying degree's of quality. For instance, LT Jeremy's Carapace is far better quality then say, Corporal Herris's.

_Las-__Weaponry-_Figure getting this all out of the way early is good. Las is the basic weaponry used by the Imperial Guard, which includes the 757th. They are angry, angry flashlights. That shoot from battery packs. _VERY ANGRY FLASHLIGHTS. _Variants include Las-pistols, Las-rifles, Las-carbines, Long-las, and Hellguns. Generally, they can be grouped together in the category of "Lasguns".

Flygirl/boy- Ground trooper slang for female/male pilots, respectively.

Ice-humper- Ground trooper slang for ground troopers.

Returning Salutes- It's the military's way of showing respect. If you don't return a superior officer's salute, you're in some deep ass shit. I'm not kidding. Really. Happened to me once. Oh god. afivoaeiwofnsdionv {cries}

Vox- Like a radio, only from the 41st Millenium. And it sucks just as bad, if not worse. Looks like we shat on communications when it came to advancing our technology. The way I use it is to have separate channels for specific groups- like Mumble, or TeamSpeak.

If there is anything that requires further explanation, mention it, and I will update this.

R&R and maybe I'll give you an internet brownie. I promise I didn't lace them with cocaine.


	2. TFC Markus

**A/N-**So, ya'll wanted more, so I give you more. Only this time with combat. And from someone else's perspective.

Same as last time, anything that has little asterisks by them will be at the bottom with an explanation.

Also, in case anyone was wondering, you should expect the next chapter by next month. I like to have a two or three chapter buffer between my uploaded chapter and my written chapter.

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TFC. Ryann Markus, 757th Teretian Mechanized Division, aboard the I.S.F. Hood

Mobile Infantry Division, Plt. 2, Squad 2, FT 1

178.M42, day 21 of warp travel to Muilen

*Entry Begins*

_I was hoping to get to this sooner, but now is better then never. I've got four minutes until we hit the LZ*, so I've got to write fast._

If someone finds this, tell Melanie Durant that I'm sorry about the recruitment night- I was drunk and abrasive. Tell my parents I love them, and always remember that their son loved them no matter what he said otherwise. Tell Vinnie

The 'lat shook violently, giving Markus enough reason to put his journal away. He stuffed it in his pocket under his armor and checked his helmet fastenings again. The helmet was secure, just like the last four times he checked it.

He heard Carson telling the rest of the team what to do to his left, and Amparan shouting orders over the vox to the other squads in the rest of the 'lats to his right. Finally, the Staff Sergeant stopped yelling into the mouthpiece and listened for a moment.

'What do you think we're gonna hit when we land?' Markus shouted, across to Burton, the squad grenadier.

'Oh, the usual. A couple of annoyed commissars*, a couple hundred press ups and crunches, and then back to the barracks where we can pull out our porn.' Burton laughed after he finished, obviously trying to ease tension.

Anyone who heard him laughed, except their new lieutenant, Jeremy, who was planted next to Carson. Emperor knows why she wanted to join squad two's assault on wherever they were landing. Maybe she was secretly suicidal.

The Staff Sergeant tapped his helmet and activated the squad's short range vox communicators. 'All right you pieces of shit, here's the situation planetside,' he began, his harsh voice cutting through into their helmets over the roar of the 'lat's engines. 'Apparently, we're going to miss the initial wave of green fuck-wads by going past them to establish a foothold within their lines. They don't focus on defense, so we're not going to worry about the frontline bastards initially. That'll give us enough time to set up a firebase* and a decent perimeter. Squad one,' he continued, motioning for everyone to lower their eyepieces so they can see what he's saying.

'Here's where we'll be landing,' he said, their eyepieces showing them all the tactical information they had access to. 'Herris, you take Squad one and secure out to the chapel, seven hundred meters north of our LZ. Squad two will be moving ahead of you, and will attempt to secure the outer limits of the chapel grounds, and will join you within the chapel once you have secured an entryway. You both will be supported by Franx one, a Chimera troop transport armed with a sixty millimeter high explosive autocannon*. They'll be carrying your fortifications, so make sure they get there safe and sound. There are plenty of places the orks might decide to hide, so it's your jobs to clear a path for Franx one and three. Got that?'

Herris nodded and grasped his las-rifle tightly. It was clear to Markus that everyone was just as nervous as he was. Well, except Amparan, who, if he smiled any wider, his cheeks would probably split.

The big man began shouting into the vox again, the screaming engines growing even louder as they strained to slow down the ship. 'I'll be accompanying squads three and four once we're groundside.' The sound of flak* quickly accompanied the groaning engines, telling Markus that they'd hit atmo, and they were already under fire. The LZ must have been close to the frontlines.

'Jeremy has full command over squads one, two and both Chimera's, so what she says goes. I'll be advising her from my position, so don't worry. She won't go easy on you guys.' Amparan's impossibly wide smile just got a little bigger, as he nodded to Herris and Carson.

'Understood sir,' Carson's voice came through Markus's earpiece, just barely audible over an explosion just outside of the 'lat.

Markus glanced over to Jeremy. She was only wearing a lieutenant's cap, no actual helmet, though she was pulling on a facemask just like everyone else, and she had a pair of goggles resting around her neck. Better then nothing, he supposed.

He tapped his helmet, switching his voice communication to squad two's channel as he equipped his own mask. He was greeted with a hail of terrible jokes and puns travelling between the squad's twelve men. The three women though, were completely silent.

'Hey, Carson,' Markus said, just able to be heard over the terrible 'your mother' jokes being spat between Burton and Empel. 'You got your slate?'

Carson nodded and patted his chestplate. 'You?'

Markus hit his chestplate as well and smiled, even if no one could see it. 'Remember, it goes to Melanie first, all right?'

'You got it man,' Carson promised.

Empel overheard their conversation. 'Aww, isn't that cute. You two gonna butt-fuck each other when we've got some off time too?'

Carson rolled his eyes and chuckled. 'If you wanted to join us, all you had to do is ask. We're not exclusive.'

Empel shook his head. 'Nah. I wouldn't have enough soft hearted stories about chick's I never banged to write about in my journal for you guys.' He laughed. 'Besides, the pussy's where it's at man.'

'Hey, do you mind?' Leas suddenly said, glaring at Empel. 'Some of us happen to be women here.'

'And I do appreciate that for keeping morale up,' Empel replied. 'But otherwise, stay out of our way honey-trap,' he finished, starting to laugh again.

'Trooper,' Lieutenant Jeremy's voice sharply cut in. 'Keep talking like that and if you get shot, Leas here might not be able to save your limbs. Or your life.'

Empel stopped talking, and slumped back as far as he was able into his seat. He was definitely embarrassed. Markus sighed, and shook his head. 'Ma'am, he was just letting off steam. It's something we do. He didn't mean anything by it.'

Jeremy glared at him through her goggles. 'We'll talk about this later trooper,' she said, cutting him off from saying anything else.

Markus nodded silently, and grasped his hellgun close to his chest. He glanced over to Leas and looked her straight in the eye, his way of giving her a silent apology. She nodded back at him, and went back to checking over her las-carbine one last time.

'Alrighty boys and girls,' their pilot, Lieutenant Nicas said, coming over the trooper bay vox loud, but fraught with static. 'We're about thirty seconds from landing in the 22nd and Leeds street intersection. From what I understand, there's only a few tourists* down there, and you'll have gunship support for at least five minutes after landing. Then we're off to get more of your friends. Apparently there's also a platoon of locals* somewhere east of the chapel, so keep an eye out for them. Emperor speed you, and good hunting.'

Markus started breathing slowly, and deeply, just to calm himself until the landing. He knew his concentration was key to keeping the squad alive. His job was to cover the squad, to keep the enemy focused on taking cover, not taking out his team. He just hoped he could do it.

Carson's voice cut in. 'All right. Empel, you and me are the first off, followed by Burton and Markus. Hadley, Leas, you're right after them, then Vecks and Gewen... you all know the drill. Lieutenant, my advice is to stick behind everyone.'

'Noted, Lance Corporal.'

'Ten seconds!' Lieutenant Nicas shouted over the vox, making everyone shut up.

That was it. The moment of truth. The moment that ramp went down, they were going to run into hell itself.

The 'lat lurched to a halt, the engines winding down to keep it from taking off again. The rear cargo bay door opened, depressurizing the cabin, and letting the warm Muilen air waft in. It slammed into the pockmarked and burned rockcrete* street with a loud clang.

Carson and Empel lead the charge out of the 'lat, followed closely by Markus himself and Burton. Markus heard Leas and Hadley right behind him, with another pair of footsteps coming down with them. Perhaps the Lieutenant ignored Carson's suggestion.

They fanned out and took cover at the corner of the street where some barricades had already been set up- probably by the local PDF regiments. Within a minute, he heard the sound of the 'lat taking off again, leaving for the Hood to gather more troops. The roar of the two gunships engines was considerably diminished now that the 'lat had left.

Markus glanced back and saw Staff Sergeant Amparan move alongside the Lieutenant, patting her on the shoulder. He was probably saying something before moving off to another block with squads three and four. Markus shook his head and turned back to the street, making sure the rest of the squad's advance into cover went unhindered.

Lieutenant Jeremy's voice chimed in over their channel. 'Staff Sergeant Amparan tells me that Franx one and three will be along in four minutes. We need to move out and try to clear as much of this street as we can so Franx one has a clear path.' She hesitated a moment, before adding, 'Well, let's go!'

'All right, call your targets guys, don't fire without my say so,' Carson said over the squad vox channel, motioning for the squad to advance. 'And make sure you call the degrees!'

Markus began his advance from cover to cover in the street. Nobody called out anything, but that didn't make him feel any better. He knew the orks were hiding somewhere, waiting for the right minute to strike. And he'd see them head on.

Markus clenched his jaw and focused on the task at hand. Those orks would die in a rain of lasbolts. His hellgun would make sure of that.

He advanced on one of the PDF's foxholes mantling over the mound of sandbags, straight into a pile of four dismembered soldiers, wearing the distinct urban camouflage the local PDF was reported to have. Their limbs were mangled together and their guts opened, intestines spilling out of the chest cavities. They had obviously been gnawed on by something with big teeth.

'Shit-fuck-balls-fucking-fuck!' Markus shouted, quickly stumbling out of the fortification, holding back a very strong urge to vomit.

'Markus, if it's not a contact, I'd like it if you stay quiet,' Carson reminded, giving Markus a quick glare.

'Aye Carson,' Markus managed, catching his breath for a second. He felt the overwhelming urge to look back and see the bodies again, but realizing that all that would accomplish was him puking in his mask, he decided against it.

He raised his hellgun again and continued forwards, squinting at every nook and cranny he could see. Despite his efforts, all that he saw were bombed out buildings, empty apartments, debris, impact craters, and not a soul in sight besides his squad.

Burton obviously stumbled into the same foxhole he did, as a string of expletives broke the silence, followed by a quick reply from Carson telling them to shut up.

'Carson, you wouldn't be saying that if you stepped in what I just did,' Burton complained. He'd probably jumped straight into the intestines pile.

'I don't care what you just stepped in, I want you checking your corners and keeping an eye on those rooftops.' Carson sighed audibly into the channel, and continued. 'Everyone, just keep your heads on, and keep quiet. I want to be able to hear-'

A single, loud shot rang through the deserted city block, its sound distinctly different from the engines roaring overhead, cutting Carson off. A number of expletives immediately sprouted up throughout the entire squad this time, with a number of soldiers shouting for cover. Markus bolted for the nearest crater and dived into it, his c-bag hitting his helmet and slamming his head into the ground hard. Good thing those helmets were made solid.

'Everyone shut the fuck up! Find cover, we need to know where that came from!' Carson yelled into the vox channel.

'The LT's hit Lance Corporal!' Leas announced to the channel.

'Mother fucker... all right! Get her into cover!- Markus! Open up!'

'_Where_?'

'I don't fucking care, make like ice* and shoot! _Do it_!'

Markus propped himself up and nodded at Carson. He scrambled out of the crater and ran to the nearest roadblock as fast as his legs would carry him, slamming into the rockcrete barrier* harder then he wanted to, probably bruising the hell out of his shoulder, but he knew he'd just have to suck that up. Pulling the bipod down, he set his hellgun's barrel on the barrier and began firing sporadically down the street, varying his altitudes in case the shooter was somewhere in the buildings.

'I've got movement- two fifteen minus two!' Empel shouted into the vox, his lasbolts hitting a window on the left side of the street almost a block away, three flights up.

Markus redirected his fire at the building, lasbolts cutting into the ceramite and rockcrete structure, blasting chunks of it off in a shower of energy. He squinted down his sights and saw something moving inside. He aimed straight for it and fired a long volley, resulting in an jet of red-black ichor to shoot from the window.

He paused a moment. 'I', he stuttered, still staring down his sights. 'I think I got him!'

'Make fucking sure! Burton, wreck that window!' Carson ordered.

'On it Carson!' Burton replied, charging up next to Markus, and slamming home a forty millimeter rifle grenade on his lasgun's underslung launcher*. 'Light it up for me, would ya Markus?'

'On it,' the hellgunner said, opening fire on the windows again. Moments later, there was a dull _thunk_, followed quickly by a high pitched explosion, blowing out a large portion of the wall, and catapulting a body out of the building.

'We got him!' Burton shouted, ejecting the grenade's shell out of his launcher and loading another in it's place. He stood and looked over the barrier. 'Looks like these things aren't all that big. It's like, almost Leas's height.'

Markus rolled his eyes and kept his hellgun on the barrier, pointed straight down the street. Something must have heard that, even if it only lasted twenty seconds. He peeked a glance at the creature they'd blown out of the building. Dismembered as it was, he could tell it was only maybe just over a meter and a half tall, and was pretty skinny. There was no way that was an actual ork*. Actual orks were supposed to be taller then Amperan, and twice as wide.

'That's great Burton. Why don't you write a full description for the Staff Sergeant when we're done with the fucking mission?' Carson shouted, evidently stressing out. 'We need to move out and get to the chapel before Franx gets there. Leas, can we move the LT?'

'I- I think so Lance Corporal. There's no blood, her carapace took the hit. I can't tell if there's internal injuries, but we need to get the med equipment out of Franx one to check that. We should move to the chapel and unload apothecary gear as soon as possible.'

'All right. Vecks, you and Leas get the LT. Keep her in the middle of the group.' Carson ordered, moving up to Markus and Burton. 'Everyone, double time it! We need to get to the chapel fast, before the orks figure out what's going on.' He patted Markus on the shoulder, and gave him a thumbs up.

Markus nodded and moved around the roadblock, with Burton in tow. The two spearheaded the rest of the squads advance down the street, straight for the chapel at the end of the street.

Carson's voice cut into the vox channel again. 'Okay, the gunships are going to clear the area around the chapel, and Franx one and three are enroute, right behind us. Keep checking those corners! And don't shoot squads three and four, they're coming in to the left of us.'

Markus breathed a little easier, knowing they had armoured support now, but he was still on edge. There was no way that was how big orks were. That was probably just a runt, their equivalent of a ratling* or something.

The two gunships roared overhead, flying straight for the chapel, splitting off as they reached the building to the sides, probably to cover the trooper's advance. Their engines were so loud, Markus almost missed the sound of a rocket going off.

He sure as hell didn't miss the explosion ripping through the right-hand Valkyrie's engine though.

'Shit.'

* * *

Glossary-

LZ- Shorthand (and short-tongue) for 'Landing Zone', or the initial deployment area for airbourne or amphibious troopers.

Commissar- An officer commissioned by a seperate chain of command, there to keep order and heresy out of the ranks. All of the ranks. Every rank. From the lowliest Trooper to the Generals of Terra. For more information, check the Lexicanum.

Sixty-Millimeter HE Autocannon- It is a 60mm rapid firing cannon, loaded with High Explosive rounds, which are devastating to lightly armoured vehicles (that the orks use) and infantry (that the orks are).

Firebase- The precursor to a 'Command Post', or a staging area for allied forces to rally at, re-arm, rest a bit, and head back out into the fray. Also, usually, easily defendable.

'Tourists'and 'Locals'- Teretian slang for hostiles invading a planet (tourist) and the people of the planet, usually PDF (locals).

Rockcrete- The 41st millenium's version of Concrete. It's harder. A lot harder.

Rockcrete Barrier- It's like a Jersey barrier (for you US people) that you find on the exit ramp of a highway.

"Make like ice...-Teretian saying, much akin to the English saying, 'Make like a tree'.

Underslung Grenade launcher- There is no reason they wouldn't have these. US forces (Later NATO forces) and the former Soviet Union had them as far back as the late 1970's. It's been almost 38,000 years since then. They're going to have these.

"...an actual ork."- He's right, it's not. That was a snotling. A mini-ork if you will. The ork imps. Not a serious threat, unless given time to think.

ratling- One of the least known factions in modern times in 40k lore, the Ratlings were GamesWorkshop's attempt to create a Space Dwarf race. Since they already had Space humans, Space Elves, Dark Elves, Chaos and Skaven (Tyranids), they figured having Dwarves wasn't a bad idea. They have slowly disappeared over time, and you usually won't find someone who knows who they are unless they played in the 1990's.

So, that's that then. If I missed anything, or if you have a question, feel free to leave it in the review.

I would promise internet brownies, but most people have enough cookies to last them a lifetime. But, if anyone does want some, I will gladly not lace them with cocaine.

R&R, and leave me some constructive criticism. It makes my life to see my work analyzed.  
Seriously. Really. I'm not saying that sarcastically.  
It's hard to differentiate between sarcasm and not sarcasm in written word where I'm just writing how I would talk. So. Yeah.

:D


	3. Gnr Messik

**A/N-**So, I promised a chapter by September. I fulfilled said promise. Thank me, Uni is not kind.

Anywho, just to clarify- I will not diminish the language guys. This is rated M. I fully intend to use every 'curse' I feel fits the situation. I'm sorry, but that's just the style I get from 40k.

* * *

Crm. Harold Messik, 757th Teretian Mechanized Division, Muilen

Mobile Infantry Division, Plt. 2, Franx 1, Chimera Troop Transport 'Bombastic'

178.M42, L-Day Muilen

*Entry Begins*

_Well, things could be worse. We're almost planetside, but it sounds like the orks have ignored our landing craft in favour of the infantry's. Lucky for us I guess!_

_Anyway, I wish I didn't have to leave so soon after our anniversary Jessie, but I promise you, I'll be back home soon. Lucky me, I'm a tank gunner. We get the best seats in the house- behind a hundred and fifty millimeters of layered cerasteel, and a sixty millimeter autocannon (that's a pretty big gun honey)._

_Well, sounds like we're landing. Hope to hear from you soon!_

_Emperor be with us,_

_Harold_

The young gunner saved the entry in his journal and folded it into his breast pocket, booting up the autocannon's external camera with his other hand. 'Hoi, Clarkson, we all set down there?' he called over their vox channel to his loader, and vehicle mechanic.

'Whenever you are Messik. Just go easy on the trigger- we don't have a supply station nearby yet, so you can't run out of sixty down here. Unless you _like _the twin hellguns.'

Messik chuckled. 'Understood Clarky.' He pulled the arming lever and activated the turret, spinning in a circle once to test.

'Movement good Sergeant. Gun's primed and ready to fire,' Messik announced to the Franx one's commander, Sergeant Shalor.

'Thank you Messik,' he replied, revving the engine. 'How she sound back there Clarky?'

'Same as the day she came off the assembly line Sergeant,' Clarkson said, giving the commander a thumbs up. 'Though moving all of this equipment is definitely not something we should do on a regular basis.'

'I'll submit a complaint to on high, how about that?' Sergeant Shalor said, his typical playful tone colouring his voice.

'Sounds good.' Messik saw Clarkson sit back in his seat, and relaxed as best he could in such a cramped space. 'Just tell me when I can open the hatch and dump this shit.'

Messik laughed and rotated his turret a bit more. Just to make sure it was well oiled. Again.

'Ramp deploying boys! Good hunting!' their pilot said as the ramp to the surface of Muilen descended, opening to a street, where Messik could see infantry already moving out towards the chapel on his screen. They'd made it pretty far for only being down for three minutes.

A loud shriek pierced through the noise of the engines bringing Messik's attention to a Valkyrie gunship getting nailed by a surface to air missile in the engine, bringing it into a right-hand spin towards the surface.

'Shit!' their pilot shouted into their vox. 'Get out, get out, we've got to split!'

'Roger that. Franx one, deploying,' Shalor replied calmly, but quickly, the Chimera shooting out of the bay of the Valkyrie landing craft and into the street where the squad nearest the crash site was advancing down. Franx three must have been right behind them, considering how quickly the 'Lat took off again.

A voice cut into the vox channel. 'This is Captain Feyko, to Franx one.'

That wasn't promising, but then again, this landing wasn't so far either. Maybe he had good news. Messik heard Shalor reply, 'Yes sir?'

The captain's voice came in again. 'Sergeant, I need you to take one of the squads up there and get those pilots out of the crash zone. We can't afford to lose too many of them, and there are very few reported ork contacts where you are. We can still rescue them with relative ease.'

Sergeant Shalor went quiet. Messik looked down from his seat and glanced at Clarkson, who was now sitting up, and looking at the tank commander.

Shalor nodded and activated his vox again. 'Roger that Captain. Franx one redirecting to rescue mission.' He tapped his vox off and looked back to Messik. 'Get back on your gun crewman. We're gonna need it.'

'Righty-o Sergeant,' Messik stuttered, sitting back up and looking at the gun's screen again.

Shalor's voice came over the vox again. 'Franx three, this is Franx one, do you copy?'

'Franx three here. What's up Bombastic?'

'We're to attempt to rescue those pilots that just went down. Grab a squad, have them latch to your hardpoints and move to the crash site. We're going to do the same.'

There was a pause, before Messik heard the commander of Franx three reply. 'Sergeant, we're filled to the brim with fortifications and medical equipment. We can't provide SAR without a crew bay.'

Shalor growled. 'We'll figure something out. Put 'em on top of your hull if you have to, just get up there with a squad. Roll out!'

Franx three was silent again. 'Understood Sergeant Shalor. Making our way to squads three and four.'

Messik looked down to Shalor. 'Uh, not to be a pain Sergeant, but if we put them on the top of the hull, I can't rotate and fire a full three-sixty.'

Shalor's answer was clear. 'Well, you'd better be damn good with that trigger, and I'll just drive in reverse. We can't afford to lose anymore pilots right now, command made that clear. That's why we had Raider's flying passes over, they were supposed to take care of this shit.'

'Right.' Messik activated the thermal view on his turret's camera and started scanning the area around them. 'Clarky, how many magazines of sixty HE do we have?'

It was a moment before Clarkson replied. 'Fourteen. You think that'll be enough?'

'Not sure,' Messik admitted. 'Stay near the co-ax hellgun though. I have a feeling we're gonna need it.'

'Roger that.'

The Bombastic throttled into the street, rolling over barbed wire, abandoned foxholes and barriers alike, quickly catching up to the first squad in their way. Shalor honked, opening vox communications with their team leader. 'This is Sergeant Shalor, we need a squad to accompany us to the crash site ahead. Are you available?'

There was a pause before the response came. 'This is Corporal Herris, commanding these squads. Lance Corporal Carson's squad is further along, you should probably take them. We'll secure the chapel behind you to establish a quick medical station.'

'Thank you Corporal. We'll go get them,' Shalor replied, and gunned the engine for the next squad, a good four blocks ahead of them. The Chimera barreled over the ditches and fortifications, crushing most of them under it's treads. Messik grinned; there was something to be said about a sixty tonne tank being able to get to ninety kloms an hour loaded with defensive equipment in four blocks

Shalor let off the accelerator, and Bombastic screeched to a halt behind second squad. He opened his vox channel again and repeated himself. 'Whoever the commanding NCO is there, this is Sergeant Shalor. Your squad is going to come with us to secure and provide rescue to the pilots at the Valkyrie crash site. Franx three will come along with reinforcements, but right now, we need to secure that area.'

There was a pause before the infantry commander replied. 'Sergeant Shalor, this is Lance Corporal Carson, I've got wounded here. We need to get into that chapel asap. Can't you get squad one to accompany you?'

'No time to argue Lance Corporal,' Shalor snarled through the vox. 'Leave your wounded with a squad member for squad one to pick up if you have to, but we have to move now if we're going to beat the orks to that crash site. Get your teams together and latch onto some hull points. We can get you there faster.'

Another moment passed. 'Understood Sergeant.'

Messik watched through his camera while the Lance Corporal appeared to point out one of his squad and have them place the wounded soldier down with him. He could just barely hear the rest of the squad latching onto the Chimera's hard-points over the roaring engine There was another moment of stillness before the Lance Corporal's voice broke into the cabin. 'We're good to go Sergeant.'

Sergeant Shalor didn't waste any time. He immediately throttled the tank forwards and around the corner of the street, into the chapel's courtyard, expertly navigating the pockmarked landscape to ensure the soldiers hanging off the sides would not be shaken off, while maintaining a respectable speed.

It took them only two minutes to get to the crash site. Whether by luck or the expertise of the pilot, the Valkyrie had only gone down about a hundred meters from the chapel.

Shalor brought the tank to a halt. 'Lance Corporal, detach and search the wreckage with your corpsmen. We'll deposit the rest of your team around the site and provide cover.'

Messik couldn't hear the three infantrymen detach, but he saw them advancing on the crumpled hulk of metal while Shalor brought the Chimera further ahead of the wreckage.

Shalor opened the channel again. 'Squad one, detach. Find cover, we'll provide suppression if you come under fire.'

Messik managed to hear some of the squad members detach, but kept his eyes on his screen, scanning for heat signatures without the telltale flare the Teretian's kept on their carapace.

He didn't have to look for very long.

'Contact!' he shouted into the vox to the squad on the ground. 'Three targets, bearing forty! Three blocks, opening fire!'

He pushed the trigger on his cannon controls, and the distinctive muffled sound of the sixty millimeter autocannon resonated through the cabin. He watched as the rounds impacted all around his targets, blooming in a brilliant white, the explosions flaring up so much he couldn't see what he was shooting at after the first two shots. He fired a ten round burst into the target area, just to be sure, before pausing and opening his own local vox channel.

'Squad one, confirm hits,' he requested, switching his camera to colour feed.

'This is TFC. Empel, confirming hits. You nailed them,' the reply came.

Shalor chuckled through the Chimera's vox channel. 'Love seeing that Messik. Keep up the scan.'

'Roger that Sergeant,' Messik said, switching back to thermal. He continued looking around the street, hoping more of the green bastards would show themselves. Anything to let out this tension.

A salvo of a heavy slugger fire spattered across the hull, making Messik jump a little. The fire continued, the one shooting obviously not knowing that anything short of another sixty autocannon firing AP would penetrate their armour.

Messik grinned slightly the second he found the machine-gun's flare in a second story window. 'Contact! Bearing two eighty minus one, firing for effect!' He pressed the trigger again, this time firing in four round bursts towards the building. He switched the camera over to colour again, and watched as the debris flew from the building he'd nailed. 'Confirm hits!'

'Empel again, hits confirmed. You're on a roll Franx one.'

Messik grinned. 'Roger that squad one.' He switched back to thermal again, continuing his scan, just noticing one of the squad members emerging from the wreckage.

'Franx one, this is Lance Corporal Carson. We've got two wounded here. You have stretchers?' he heard over the vox channel.

'Affirmative Lance Corporal,' Shalor replied, before switching to the tank's channel. 'Clarkson, open the hatch. Medical equipment was the last loaded. Stretchers should be the first thing they see.'

'Gotcha.'

Messik heard the hatch open, letting in the sound of another Chimera's engine roared up next to them. 'Franx one, this is Franx three, we've brought a few friends.'

Shalor opened his channel again. 'Roger that Franx three, drop them off here. We'll pull the evac for this, you'll cover us.'

'Understood Sergeant.'

A burst of static came through. Another member of squad two had opened the channel. 'Franx one and three, we've got smoke going up six blocks down. Mind checking that for us?'

Messik looked at his screen, switching between thermal and colour, then back to thermal. 'Roger that squad one, we'll watch it,' he said, zooming in the camera and peering at his screen intently.

It didn't take long for him to see two large heat signatures race around the corner, affixed with multiple smaller, terran-esque figures. Probably some crude ork vehicle, laden with ground troops. He opened his channel to Franx three's gunner. 'Contact, two vehicles, direct north! Fire for effect!'

The sixty millimeter guns opened up in glorious unison, the rounds immediately tearing into the ramshackle vehicles down the street, blowing heaps of metal and bodies off, before both exploded in a brilliant flash of white. Switching to colour again, Messik saw both ork trucks ablaze, with several bodies flung to the sides. Bodies that were getting up again.

'Mother of the Emperor, they're getting up! Fire again, fire again!' Franx three's gunner shouted, opening up in a sweeping manner at the targets. Messik adjusted his sights and pressed the trigger again. After firing three rounds into the grouping, there was a quiet 'click' and a red light labeled "reload" lit up.

'Clarky, I need a new magazine, and I need it yesterday!'

'On it!'

The distinct hollow clacking of the empty magazine being released followed by the chunky slotting of a new one was music to Messik's ears. His reload light blinked red for a few more seconds, until finally it flashed to a bright green.

'You're good to go Messik!' Clarkson told him, even though it wasn't necessary. Protocol was never Clarkson's strong point, and he only followed it if he was under orders, or was particularly nervous. Messik felt good to know he wasn't the only one on edge now.

He checked the area where Franx three had been firing, and there were no more moving signals. Good. The gunner from the other tank called in. 'Franx three reloading, keep us covered one!'

'Understood Franx three,' Messik replied. He checked his hellgun safeties, making sure the weapons were primed, just in case he really needed them. 'Clarky, they got the stretchers out?'

'Yeah. Closing hatch.' The mechanical whirr of the hatch rising back into position was nearly drowned out by the roaring engines of Franx one and three, though Messik did hear the click of the latch locking the ramp into it's closed position. Somehow, that made him feel a bit safer, even though the rear of the tanks were facing friendly forces.

He kept his gun pointed straight down the street, but opened his visor to see what the infantry outside were doing. He saw the soldier and two corpsmen by the wreckage joined by two more corpsmen from the squad Franx three brought up. They carefully pulled two bodies from the wreckage, both probably wounded, but he couldn't see from where he was.

'Franx one, we've got targets direct north again, maybe three hundred meters! Open up!' Franx three's gunner shouted into Messik's ear. He immediately returned to his gun's camera and sure enough, there was at least fifteen infantry advancing on their position. But they weren't lumbering forwards like the orks had, nor were they big enough to be orks.

'Don't fire Franx three. Not yet,' Messik said, hoping Franx three hadn't reloaded yet. 'Wait for them to get in visual range. Make sure they're not friendlies.'

'You think it could be the local's we were told about?'

'I wouldn't put it past them. We were kind of noticeable, you know, landing, in Valkyries. Firing sixties. It's kind of loud.' He waited another moment. 'Squad one,' he said. 'There may be friendlies coming our way. Check your targets before firing.'

'Understood Franx one,' one of the infantrymen replied. 'We'll check our fire.'

Messik watched the heat signatures move forwards carefully, each one checking their corners and moving from cover to cover. He was right- no way these were orks. Had to be local PDF.

He watched as the men got closer and closer to the lines, before one of them held up a hand, waving at the tanks maybe a block away. Shalor flicked the lights on and off twice, giving them the okay to advance. There was only thirteen of them, contrary to his estimate, but that didn't stop him from getting a good feeling about the entire operation. Maybe they wouldn't be overrun in a day. At least he would make some money from the betting pool.

Shalor opened his channel to squad two. 'Somebody punch those PDF into our channel, I'd like to hear their intel.'

There was a second of silence, before a hurried reply came through. His accent was thick, clipped, quick, and nigh incomprehensible with all his emphasis on the wrong syllables. 'S'rry... what was it?... Oh, Franx one. S'rry, but we don't have vox communicators. We were only equipped with a voxman, and we lost him four days ago.'

Shalor sighed and cut off the man. 'Who am I addressing?' he asked.

'PDF Scout Corporal Mongs sir. I'm in charge of this team.'

'This is Lance Corporal Carson,' the man cut in, apparently annoyed, judging from his tone. 'I'm sorry to interrupt, but we need to get these two back to the Chapel. Sergeant Shalor, if you would get going, we're all set back here.'

'You're right Lance Corporal.' Shalor shifted the Chimera into reverse and slowly pushed in the throttle. 'Scout Corporal, we'll pick up this conversation at a later time. Accompany squads two, three and Franx three back to Chapel.'

'Roger that Franx one,' Mongs replied in his distinctive Muilenise tambre.

Messik kept his eyes down the road, just as he had been for the past four minutes as Shalor gently hummed the Chimera back towards the chapel grounds. 'Franx three, keep yourself trained down that road. No way that's all they're gonna throw at us.'

'Gotcha Franx one.'

Shalor was trained on the rear-view screen, keeping the Bombastic on the straightest path he could towards the chapel walls. Messik glanced down and watched the camera for himself for a moment. They were headed straight for an entry gate, that was currently being pushed open by an infantry squad. Well, perhaps, "trying to move a mountain with a childs shovel" would be a more adequate comparison.

Messik heard Shalor sigh, and activate the loudspeaker. 'Move away from the gate! We'll push it open.'

The gunner sat back up and waited a moment. It wouldn't take long for Shalor to hit that gate, and he wouldn't be going that slow.

Indeed, he wasn't, but the impact wasn't as jarring as Messik was expecting. Instead, the gate held it's own for a moment before being smoothly pushed open by the rear of the Chimera. The loud, brash sound of gears grinding wasn't, in fact, from the Chimera's transmission, but the gates mechanisms, which apparently had malfunctioned or been sabotaged, and were keeping the gate from opening, keeping whoever was inside, right where they were, and all the orks out.

He smiled as Shalor brought the tank to a halt. They'd successfully completed their first objective, and already, he could see the second wave of Valkyrie transports coming down to deliver more reinforcements.

Perhaps today wouldn't be a total failure. He would probably be able to write his wife again before the week was out.

And, better yet, he'd win his bet and get those hundred terstchmarks that had been wagered earlier.

* * *

So, I'm working on Ch. 5 right now, editing 4 again, and I've found my rhythm for the chapters a bit better. Hopefully the next one will be on by... Late October?

Anyway, cocaine cookies for my reviewers as per the norm.

...

I mean...

...

Yeah. R&R pretty please.


End file.
